


Scarecrow

by ladyshadowdrake



Series: Scarecrow [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint on a farm, Crows for the love of all, Gen, Humor, Winter soldier compliant, rarepair, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:48:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2787269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyshadowdrake/pseuds/ladyshadowdrake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint wakes up one morning to find that he has one more scarecrow than he went to bed with, and it appears to be actually attracting the crows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scarecrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [copperbadge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperbadge/gifts), [Etharei](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etharei/gifts).



> This came about due to an interesting discussing on crows during a livestream by copperbadge. So instead of writing things I was supposed to write, this happened instead. 
> 
> I do kind of enjoy the premise though, so it might get some attention.

When Clint stepped out on the porch at fuck-all early in the morning, bleary-eyed and coffee in hand, he counted his scarecrows. Now, just to be clear, Clint didn’t _usually_ count his scarecrows, because _usually_ there were the same number of them when he woke up as when he went to sleep. That morning, he blinked at the field, glared, and counted – one, two, three… four. Glaring some more, he counted again – one, two, three… still a fourth scarecrow, standing right in the middle of his potato bed, exactly where he would not have put a scarecrow. And rather than scaring the crows, it actually seemed to be attracting them. This was absolutely not the purpose of a scarecrow.

Clint sat down on the rocking chair and finished his coffee while he watched to see if the scarecrow would mysteriously disappear the way it had mysteriously appeared in the middle of the night. He would have done something about it except that it was fuck-all early in the morning, and he hadn't had nearly enough caffeine to handle this shit.

While he watched the scarecrow attract crows in the early morning light, Clint ran down a mental list of the bored brat kids in the area to see who would be stupid enough to screw with his potato bed. And seriously, what a ragged, weird scarecrow. It had lank, dark hair – horsehair? Dollhair?- definitely not straw, that was for sure – a curiously anatomically correct body that made Clint wonder if perhaps it was a mannequin, and really, it seemed like an awful lot of work to go through for a prank on the one guy in the area it was generally considered a _bad idea_ to prank.

It took a leisurely fifteen minutes for Clint to finish the black coffee, and he took his time to enjoy it. Unlike the tar at SHIELD HQ (what _had been_ SHILED HQ), this was good stuff, far too expensive (but worth it), fresh ground every morning, and made in a French press. Clint didn’t have the room for many luxuries in life, but when he was not being a SHIELD assassin, his coffee was one of those precious few pleasures. His stupid inner voice that just didn’t know when to quit mused that Phil would have really loved it, of course he would have, because he was the one that introduced Clint to the French press in the first place, and showed him that no, not all coffee beans were created equal.

Clint told himself firmly that he's not thinking about that. He's thinking about the freaking 6' scarecrow standing in the middle of the goddamn potato bed. Clint drained the last of the coffee, set the cup down, and returned to the house. He retrieved his bow, stood at the edge of the deck and sighted one of the crows happily perched on The-Worst-Scarecrow-in-the-History-of-Ever’s shoulder. Deep breath, let out part way, hold, and pull-

-And holy shit, nightmares started like this, because the freaking scarecrow _turned and caught the arrow_. The sunlight glinted off a metal arm, previously hidden due to the angle. The crows all took flight in a flurry of scolding caws.

Clint blinked. The man, who was not, in fact, a scarecrow, stared back at him.

Clint noticed the red star inscribed on the stranger’s metal shoulder, sighed, and asked, “Want some coffee?”

He was honestly kinda surprised when the Winter Soldier brought him the arrow, polite as you please, and followed him inside.

**Author's Note:**

> And I am on tumblr here: http://lightshadowverisimilitude.tumblr.com/


End file.
